


With You In My Arms, I'll Always Find Peace

by Illusinia



Series: Blame the Colonel, these are her fault [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illusinia/pseuds/Illusinia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post mission fluff between Clint and Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With You In My Arms, I'll Always Find Peace

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this on ColonelWoytuck from Twitter for this one. She got me thinking about cute Clint/Phil stuff.

The scent of pizza filled the apartment as Clint walked in, drool almost pooling in his mouth at the smell. Starving didn't even begin to describe how he was feeling at that exact moment. Between the five day mission that involved a hell of a lot of running, the tasteless MIR's, and the fact he hadn't gotten a chance to actually eat anything in the last seven hours, Clint was starved for coffee and food among other things. Not necessarily in that order either.

 

Immediately, he bee-lined for the kitchen, hopefully sticking his head inside the small room. If there was coffee too, he was going to kiss someone, regardless of who was cooking in the apartment. The scent of tomatoes, basil, and pepperoni intensified as he entered, though all thoughts of food momentarily vanished when he caught sight of the person bent down in front of the oven.

 

Even though he theoretically shouldn't, he could recognize that ass anywhere. Specifically, it was the ass of his handler, one Agent Phil Coulson of SHIELD. His handler who also just so happened to be his boyfriend. Plus, if he was honest, Phil was the only person he knew who would have the thought to make pizza and coffee at home in anticipation of his return. Even with the amount of work he had to do, Phil still found time to spoil Clint when he'd been off on mission. It was something he was eternally grateful for.

 

“Dinner's almost ready,” remarked Phil without looking back at him. How the man knew he was there, Clint didn't know, but he didn't ask either.

 

Instead, he walked up behind his boyfriend and waited until Phil was standing again, carefully wrapping his arms around Phil's waist. “Thanks, I'm starving.”

 

“I thought you might be,” stated Phil simply, laying a hand over one of Clint's.

 

For a long moment, neither moved. They simply stood there, Clint relaxing as Phil's warmth and presence helped sooth his nerves. The masculine scent of his partner mixed with that of the cooking food screamed home and helped further chase the remaining tension from his body. Phil just stood there silently for his part, letting Clint draw peace from his presence. They remained that way until the timer dinged, signaling the pizza was done.

 

Reluctantly, Clint released Phil so the other man could retrieve the pizza from the oven, setting the bubbling, cheesy delight on the stove to cool. He then turned to Clint, kissing him quickly before shoving him towards the door to the kitchen. “Go in the living room, I'm going to finish in here and bring the food out.”

 

The grin that spread over Clint's face was massive. The living room meant cuddling and Clint wasn't about to say no to that. He half jumped on the couch happily, sprawling out as he relaxed into the familiar piece of furniture. “You mind if I turn on Dog Cops?”

 

“Go ahead,” agreed Phil, though Clint could hear the eye-roll in his voice. Phil wasn't the biggest fan of Dog Cops, mostly because he found the show boring. Then again, Clint felt the same way about Supernanny, so they were on even footing there. The rule with TV was that whoever came home from the mission got to choose what they watched. It was just common courtesy that Clint ask before he turned it on. Phil wasn't going to say no.

 

Flipping on the TV, Clint's face nearly split when he spotted the DVRed Dog Cops episode he'd missed. Of course Phil would have the foresight to DVR the episode. Clint had been too busy trying to stumble from their bed at 2 am to have even considered the DVR. But Phil clearly did, probably when he got up hours later.

 

“Front or back?” asked Phil as he stepped out of the kitchen with the pizza balanced on a tray in one hand and two cups of coffee carefully balanced in the other.

 

Clint didn't stand up to help, knowing from experience that Coulson would just shoo him back to the couch. The burn of coffee was still firmly infused in his mind from the first time he tried to help Phil by taking things from his hands when he had everything balanced. Instead, he scooted everything off the coffee table so Phil could set their dinner down. “Back.”

 

Nodding, Phil slid the pizza and coffee expertly onto the table without dropping or spilling anything (a feat Clint had tried once with colossal consequences- it was just his luck the remote had ended up under his foot). Clint scooted back against the back of the couch, sprawling out and opening his arms so Phil could settle in front of him.

 

Phil didn't hesitate to drop onto the couch in front of Clint, settling back against the archer to his great satisfaction and starting the missed episode of Dog Cops. Some missions, yeah, Clint preferred to be the one held, particularly if it had gone badly. But there were other times when he'd rather be the holding Phil and this was one of them.

 

His arms settled around Phil's waist as the man reached forward for a slice of pizza, holding it out for Clint to take a bite. He happily complied with the request, biting off the end of the pizza happily. He loved Phil's pizza. How the man managed to make it so good, Clint wasn't sure (he'd tried to make it himself- the fire alarm went off), but he could eat that pizza for the rest of his life and be happy.

 

Without thought, Phil took the next bite before offering the slice back to Clint again. It was how they always ate after missions it felt like: cuddled on the couch with someone holding someone else and them splitting whatever food the one who wasn't deployed obtained. It was hope, it was comfortable, and Clint wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
